Man out of Time
by in for a penny in for a pound
Summary: There is a mysterious man living in the Eastern German forest. who is he and what does he mean to the team in Thames House? Rated K for now but could increase as story goes on.
1. Chapter 1

Man out of time

Totally AU. This idea came to me out of the blue and I've no clue as to where it's going so I'm as much in the dark as anyone out there who might read it and hopefully comment on it. Based on the premises that it wasn't Ruth who left after Cotterdam.

 **The first couple of sentences are in German and then I have taken the easy way out and chosen to use English.**

Dieter Grosse straightened and raised his hand to show his mother that he'd heard her. But of course she called out again

"Genug fur heute sohn. Lass es komm und iss."

Entering the small kitchen of their isolated farmhouse he smiled to himself as the small grey haired woman who was the centre of his universe pointed to the sink and the bar of soap and towel that rested there.

"Wash your hands Dieter, after all cleanliness is next to Godliness and then we can eat."

He hurried to do her biding, he always did as she told him, he was a good son, a son who knew just how much he owed his mother and the whole of his life was dedicated to making her happy and proud of him. He was vaguely aware that sometime in the past he'd been a very different man, a man that no mother would have been proud of but now he had the chance to redeem himself and he was grateful for that chance. As he hunched over the low sink he glanced at his mother as she stirred what smelt very much like rabbit stew and he had one of the strange visions that sometimes beset him. In his mind's eye he saw a small dark haired woman whose face he couldn't quite see; she was bent over a keyboard of some sort and was surrounded by people who seemed to be rushing hither and thither but she was an oasis of calm amid the chaos.

Suddenly he felt empty and desolate as though he had lost everything that had ever mattered to him and he couldn't help but shudder and sigh.

Ada Grosse watched Dieter closely, she always watched him closely, she couldn't lose him,she would not lose him. She had lost one son and to lose another; well that would be too much for an old woman to bear. She knew with the instinct only a mother could have that he still had too many thoughts of his past, a past that plagued him and made him wake in the night screaming and covered in sweat. Maybe she thought tonight it might be a good idea to give him a little more medication than usual.

 _It would not do him any harm she told herself and he was a lot happier and easier to control when he wasn't thinking too deeply. She couldn't afford for him to think to deeply, he might begin to remember and then everything would change and she would be alone again. She didn't want to die alone._

After all she told herself it was for his own good, he was happy here with her. They were happy with their lives here in the glorious isolation of their farm in what had been East Germany. They were left alone by their neighbours who thought them both strange and standoffish aded to that there was a rumour in the neighbourhood that Dieter Grosse had been a member of the dreaded and hated _**Stasi.**_ A rumour that Ada did nothing to dispel as it meant visitors to the property were few and far between and the few who did make the journey into the forest would always be at pains to tell anyone who would listen that they'd not seen hide nor hair of the elusive son. In fact some doubted that he even existed and that suited Ada just fine.

Later as they sat by the fire Dieter told his mother that he'd be going into the forest that surrounded their farmhouse sometime in the coming week as he needed to cut wood for the forthcoming winter; a task that they both knew he hated and dreaded in equal measure. There was something about the quietness, the isolation, the fact that he was entirely alone performing a mundane task that he had done countless times before that disturbed him and made him think about all the bad things he'd done in his life. Not that he could have told anyone what those things were, they were just vague impressions that skipped in and out of his consciousness never staying long enough for him to analyse them.

There was that word again "analyse" Why did it mean so much to him? He knew that it was important, no he corrected himself it was not the deed that intrigued him it was the person who performed that deed that was? Was what? He leant forward with his head in his hands unable, unwilling to dig deeper into his past; a past that he knew would hurt him and more importantly hurt others who cared for him.

But that just raised more questions, as far as he was aware he cared for no one else in the world but his mother and he would never hurt her but he had hurt people in the past. He was sure of that. And he thought someone was missing him but he knew no one well enough for them to miss him. Or did he? Every time he tried to ask his mother about his past she got upset and cried so he'd stopped asking but he'd lived somewhere else besides this farmhouse and he had done something else other than work on the land and with their animals but the harder he searched for answers the harder the puzzle became and the more his head ached; especially the scar on the back of his head.

His mother had told him it was the result of a motor bike accident but he could never remember owning a motor bike and why he wondered did it look so much like the scar a bullet wound would leave. And for that matter how did he know what a bullet wound looked like? And what about all the other scars on his body? Where had they come from?

"Stop it Dieter, you think too much and you know how much it upsets you when you can't remember things. It will all come back to you in time I promise it will my son, you will just have to be patient." And with her voice soft and cajoling she passed him a hot chocolate."Sip it slowly it's still hot." He took it from her and smiled. She always knew what he was thinking and how to calm him and he was grateful to her for that.

Ada Grosse watched with satisfaction as he drained the mug. He would sleep well tonight, there would be no dreams, no recollections to haunt him and she would make sure she kept him busy over the next few days catching up around the farmhouse so she could accompany him into the forest .

The forest was a dangerous place in more ways than one. The forest had brought him to her but it could just as quickly take him away again.

I would be very interested to know what you think about this and if you think it's worth carrying on with it?

 **My apologies to all German speakers. The two sentences translate as**

" **Enough for today son. Leave it, come and eat."**


	2. Chapter 2

Man out of time

Chapter Two

I'd almost forgotten about this but came across it when I was looking for something else and decided I should have a go at moving it on a bit.

Central London eighteen months later.

The head of Section D stepped out of the pod that guarded the entrance to the confusion and chaos that was the centre, the beating heart of counter terrorism in the United Kingdom and for one just one brief moment their only thought was to turn and flee, turn and flee back to their home and their child where there was some semblance of normality, some hope of a normal life but any thoughts of that nature were quickly chased away as her presence was noticed and she was bombarded with question; answers to questions she had not even asked and pieces of paper being thrust under her nose with demands that they be read or signed.

She held her hands up in front of her in a gesture that could have been seen

as either a way of fending off or defending herself from all these demands before she spoke; here voice stilling the chaos "I'm sure the world won't implode if I'm given time to take my coat off" she said "And can we all just calm down a little, from what I've been told the risk has been downgraded from critical to our old favourite severe so can we all just take the time to breathe. And if anyone is putting the kettle on I'd be forever grateful."

A few minutes later she was sat in front of her laptop going through the many messages that had been left for her since she left last night. With her quick, agile analysts mind she sorted the wheat from the chaff making a note of the things that didn't seem quite right ready to take them to the morning meeting or pass them over to her chief analyst for further scrutiny. There was a brisk knock on the door and she called "Come in" before her second in command Adam Carter entered the room two mugs clutched in one hand. "There was no need to do that" she told him quietly "I would have come and fetched my mug; you know that right?"

"Ruth, Ruth" he chided gently as he smiled at her. "Being the boss does have some perks, though for the life of me I can't think of any off the top of my head." and he smiled at her again as he placed the mug on the coaster before he took a seat opposite her asking "Have you got a moment?"

He waited as she picked up the mug and took a long sip of her tea before she held up her hand and asked "Can you just give me a moment Adam. I must get this e mail off before I do anything else or we are going to find ourselves getting the short end of the stick again."

As he watched her typing away furiously his eyes strayed around the office. Nothing had been changed since the hasty departure of her predecessor; it still had the bloody awful garish red wall, the military artefacts still graced the shelves and if he were to look he was sure he'd find a bottle of the finest single malt in the bottom draw of the desk. They had all tried to get her to change things when she was appointed but she'd dug her heels in, in that quiet Ruth like way; never arguing, never responding just ignoring all the blandishments. Ignoring all the colour charts that had found their way onto her desk, all the samples of the range of new blinds that she could have chosen from and he thought he could spy in the corner a stack of catalogues showing the works of art that were available for her to loan as head of Section D. Everything had been rejected; she'd even kept hold of the awful couch an item of furniture that he'd always thought of as a bloody eyesore!

When she pressed send you closed the laptop saying "Well that'll ruffle a few feathers! Now what can I do for you Adam? Do I need to drink my tea to fortify myself or can I sip it as I listen to some good news for a blessed change?"

"Sip" he told her as he went onto outline the success of one of their junior agents who had managed to infiltrate a suspect group; a group of naïve young people who they thought were being manipulated by others who were a much more serious threat to national security. "She feels that she can bed herself in the group and find out more about what's really going on. I've made sure she's being monitored at all times; that new microchip is proving to be a God send it picks up everything she hears and says but I'm going to have to get a message to her to tell her to stop repeating everything that's said to her. At the moment it could be seen as enthusiasm for the cause but if it goes on much longer it'll be seen as suspect."

"Make sure she's safe Adam". She watched as he silently raised his eyebrows in question "Okay, make sure she's as safe as she can be. Tell her not to take and risks she doesn't need to. _Her_ group is small fry but if and when she makes contact higher up the line she'll need to be on her toes, there not amateurs Adam and they'll spot her a mile off if she carries on as she is doing."

This part of the job did not sit easily with her; working out in the field had never been one of her strong points and she still found it hard to understand how some of her team seemed to thrive and even crave the excitement that field work offered. And even after all this time it pained her each time she sent one of them out to court danger. She knew she'd been lucky, she'd only lost a couple of the team but she carried those losses around with her every day. She was very aware that many were still looking for her to show signs of weakness so they could pounce on her and have her removed from her post. And she was not under any circumstances going to allow that to happen. She'd sacrificed and continued to sacrifice too much, much too much to ever allow that to happen. So she turned a face to the world; a face that was false and devoid of feeling a face that spoke wordlessly the mantra she had been taught by her predecessor. Thinking of him made her breath catch in her throat and she closed her eyes for a moment as she composed her self. "Just make sure she's aware of the dangers Adam that's all I ask" she told him softly "The rest is up to her and her judgement. Now is there anything else I've loads to do before the meeting."

Adam knew that was his cue to make himself scarce but before he left he asked kindly "How did last night go? Was it as good as you hoped? Or are you still not sure? It's such a big step to take I know that. I know it will be a big change for you all but they all have to grow up Ruth however much you and Malcolm want it him to remain you baby. Believe you me Ruth and I speak from experience it gets even more interesting from now on."

She smiled at him "Well thank you for making me aware of all the pitfalls Mr. Carter" she teased "It went well, it was as good as we'd hoped and yes I've made a decision, well we made a decision. James will start there at the beginning of the new term. Malcolm and I were very impressed by the whole set up although Malcolm has had his geek hat on this week checking out their security. It's been quite funny to watch really but as he said _I just need my boy to be safe._ And who can argue with that?"

When he reached the door he turned and spoke again "I'm pleased that you're taking up their offer Ruth, it's a bloody good school and I know they will bring out the best in James. He's a very clever little boy; of course that comes as no surprise when you look at his parents."

I know, I know Adam it's just such a big step and in my heart he's still a baby but of course you're right; we need to let him spread his wings a bit. I'm bad enough but Malcolm's like a mother hen with him." And she smiled as she thought of the scene in her kitchen last night as Malcolm was trying to make James eat his broccoli. Sometimes it was so much fun just to watch the two of them together as Malcolm tried using logic on a nearly four year old. She'd nearly laughed out loud when she remembered the words that had come out of her little boys mouth, words that had stopped Malcolm in his tracks

 _I don't like it because it's green and it gets in my mouth!_

They had laughed about it after James had been put to bed but had both agreed that he was maybe getting a little too big for his boots and that school would maybe slow him down a little; he needed to know he was not the centre of the universe and that he couldn't always get his own way. And that as much as it would be a wrench they needed to let go a little bit.

As he closed the door behind him Adam wondered not for the first time when and if Ruth would share the secret of James parentage. He knew that most if not all the security services thought that Malcolm Wynn-Jones was his father. That he and Ruth had found comfort in each other after the devastating aftermath of the Mace débâcle; hadn't he been by Ruth's side all the way through the pregnancy, hadn't he been the one pacing the hospital corridor during the birth and didn't the three of them live together as a nice little family unit; Malcolm who was now retired from the service playing the role of "house husband" while Ruth held the security of the country in her delicate hands.

But he'd never believed a word of it, he'd known from the very beginning who he thought the father was. There was something strangely familiar about the way James held his head, the way he looked you straight in the eye, the shape of his lips, the colour of his eyes and when the boy had been going through the "terrible twos" he'd watched in fascination and joy as the baby had shouted and pouted as he tried to get his own way.

No he; Adam Carter would bet his house that Malcolm Wynn-Jones was not the boys father and that he knew very well who was. And if he knew he thought it very likely that others on the team also knew or suspected, he also knew with certainty than none of them would ever share their thoughts with a living soul. It was simply safer that way.

Ruth sighed as the door was pulled to; she'd watched the occupant of this office for so long, watched from the inclusion of the Grid, watched as her own little world swirled around her giving her courage, giving her determination and most of all giving her love but now she was all alone in this glass box. She had never really believed him when he'd shared with her how lonely he felt on a daily basis. How he would sometimes look out onto the Grid with envy as they all shared a joke or a good old fashioned gossip. No she had never understood but she did now. She was still part of the team but she was the boss now and as such she had to keep a distance between them and that was something she found so very difficult to do. She had always been good at keeping secrets but now the secrets she kept bore down so heavily on her and at times she thought she might very well suffocate under the pressure.

Closing her eyes she allowed herself a moment to thing about her son; he'd looked like an angel this morning as she kissed him goodbye. It had been a wrench to leave him, it was a wrench every single time she left him but she knew that she owed his father a debt she could never repay so each day she left the most important person in her life in an act of contrition and penance.

And as she thought about the man who was no longer in her life she could feel the tears welling in her throat and as she fought to control them she could feel the pain being replaced by anger. How dare he do what he had done? How dare he sacrifice himself to save her? How dare he make that life changing decision alone?

At that moment the phone rang reminding her that self pity was a luxury she couldn't afford and suddenly she was all business again. Picking it up she said one word "Evershed". Her voice now strong and sure.

The show must go on.


	3. Chapter 3

Man out of time

Chapter Three

 **Thank you so much for all the reviews they mean a lot but I must share with you all that I have no idea where this is going! Well that's not strictly true I know what my ultimate destination is but whether and how I get there is up to them.**

Six weeks later eastern Germany.

He watched as the last lorry faded from view up the track that led to the isolated farmhouse. He hadn't been sure he was doing the right thing until the very moment the livestock were herded onto the wagons but as he saw them disappear up the ramps he was certain that he had done the right thing for them as well as himself.

Sighing heavily he made his way back into the warmth of the small farmhouse his mind in turmoil as it had been over the past few weeks. Had it really only been a month since the fateful morning he'd gone into his mother's room mystified as to why she wasn't up and about, bustling around the small kitchen whilst she made his breakfast before he went out to tend to the animals. Her room had been dark; the shutters still firmly closed an eerie silence pervading everything. He remembered standing at the door unsure of what his next move should be. He never, ever went into his mother's room. She had always been very strict about that. Indeed she was so strict about her private space that she would lock her door on the very rare occasions he was was left in the house alone.

He could still remember his apprehension as he called into the gloom "Mother are you okay? Can I get you something? Is everything okay?" There had been no reply and so he'd moved further into the darkened room expecting that at any moment she would sit bolt upright in her bed and berate him for daring to enter her bedroom. But the figure in the bed had not moved and as he made his way slowly over towards the window with the intention of folding back the shutters it was starting to dawn on him that something was seriously wrong. Maybe, he thought she was ill and he would have to make the journey to the next farm so he could use their telephone to contact the doctor.

As he folded back the shutters allowing light to flood into the room he blinked as his eyes adjusted. Still there had been no movement and he was becoming increasing panicked, he knew that he had to move to the bed, knew that he had to check that she was okay but he just couldn't seem to get his feet to obey him but as he stood by the window in total confusion he'd heard her calling his name.

"Dieter? Dieter is that you?" she called her voice weak and wavering. He'd rushed to her side grasping at her outstretched hand as though it were a life line; a talisman that would keep him safe. Would make everything right.

"You had me worried there" he'd joked hoping that she would tell him off for being in her room and for making silly jokes at her expense but she didn't say anything and his worry had just increased. "Are you ill? He'd dared to ask for his mother was not a woman who like to entertain the idea of illness in anyone least of all herself. "I'll drive up the next farm and use their phone to call the doctor" he'd said adding quickly "I won't be long, I'll be back before you know I've gone. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep Dieter" she'd told him her voice growing weaker. "Be quiet for a moment boy." As she'd spoken she'd drawn a long painful breath and he could see that she seemed to gathering herself to make some sort of effort. After what seemed like an age she spoke again "I'm sorry" she'd said I'm sorry but I'd lost him you see, I'd lost him and some quirk of fate brought you to me and I decided that I was owed something, someone. You have been a good son Dieter, a good son but I have stolen so much from you. My only excuse is that I didn't want to grow old alone. Can you ever forgive me?"

He'd thought she was rambling and had touched her forehead to see if she had a fever but she was icy cold, so cold it was almost like touching a corpse and he's shuddered despite himself "Don't be silly" he'd told her "There is nothing to forgive. Just lie here quietly and I'll go and use the telephone. I promise you everything will be okay. Trust me, please trust me."

In answer he'd felt her grasp his hand in a vice like grip, a grip with a power that had surprised him."Too late much too late. Say you forgive me, say it."

She was now gasping for each breath and he knew that she was nearing the end of her life. How he'd wondered did he know that? As far as he knew he'd never seen another human being die before but somewhere at the back of his mind was the nagging feeling that he had seen deaths; that he had caused deaths? And he shuddered once more.

The frail old lady in the bed beckoned him to lean into her and for a fleeting moment he wondered where his strong capable Mother had gone because the caricature of the woman he feared and respected seemed to be mocking him with her need. Nonetheless less he did as he was bid and when she weakly motioned that he should come closer he obeyed her without a second thought but even in such close proximity he had to strain to hear her words "Look under the fallen log three trees west of the picnic spot." The words rasped against his ears and only added to his confusion. He was going to beg her to explain what she meant when all power seemed to leave her body and as sure as night follows day he knew before she flopped down on the mattress that she was dead. Knew that he was alone.

After that everything had become a blur. He could remember running (when was the last time he'd run he wondered) to the next farm breathless and crying by the time he got there; sobbing out his news to the young woman who opened the door to him, allowing her to pull him into the farmhouse as she called upstairs to a man who he recognised as her father who listened to what she told him before he picked up the telephone and called the local doctor. The doctor came and went, there was nothing to be done except to issue the death certificate; when it was handed to him he could remember staring at it blankly not knowing what to do with it. "You'll need it to arrange the funeral" the man had told him "Do you want me to contact the undertakers or would you rather do that yourself?"

He must have contacted the funeral directors because later that day two men and a woman had arrived to talk to him about _The Arrangements"_. It was then that he realised he knew nothing about his family. He didn't know if he had aunts and uncles, cousins; he didn't know anything about his father, he didn't even know who his father was. To all intents and purposes the personal history of Dieter Grosse had died with his mother.

The funeral took place three days later at the small Lutheran church in the village; it had been a simple ceremony, no flowers, no fuss, no mourners really except for a few local people who he was sure had come out of curiosity rather than to pay their respects and then the short drive to the crematorium on the outskirts of the local town where there had been even less people in attendance and all the time his mother's words played on a loop in his head. _What did she think she had stolen from him? Who had she lost? What did she mean about a quirk of fate bringing him to her?_ It was all so confusing and another thing he'd been shocked about his lack of emotion about the whole thing. Oh he missed her, he was sorry she was dead but deep down inside himself he felt nothing. He didn't feel that gut wrenching, breath stopping despair that he was sure he should feel.

But he went through the motions. He fed and watered the livestock and he discovered that he hated every last one of the bloody things! They were just a symbol of the way he was shackled to this place, a place he was starting to realise meant nothing to him. He was not a farmer, he never had been (he knew that with a certainty that increased with each passing day) and so he began to make inquiries amongst his neighbours to see if they would be willing to take them off his hands. There had been no lack of offers and today he felt as though a yolk had been lifted from his neck, at last he was responsible to nothing and no one.

And all the time his mother's words echoed in his head. He was sure, no positive that he knew the place she had referred to. It was a place they always seemed to end up at whenever they were out in the forest foraging for berries or mushrooms. He knew the log she had spoken about he sat on it often enough as they ate the food she packed for them. Yes he was sure he knew all about the place.

Tomorrow, he would do it tomorrow. His head had started to hurt again. The pain came and went in waves as did the nausea and the aches and pains that seemed to wrack his body all of the time and he wasn't sleeping. He seemed to spend the majority of the night tossing and turning and then when he did manage to drift off he was plagued by vivid, disturbing dreams. They always seemed to involve violence and loss, he was always running and hiding from something or someone he couldn't see and he always seemed to be running towards a woman. But the woman he was running towards was not his mother it was a petite younger woman with dark glossy hair. In his dreams he could sense her calling to him; beckoning him towards her. He couldn't hear her voice but as he drew closer to her he could see that she had tears running down her cheeks. At that point he always stopped and opened his arms to her, willing her to walk into his embrace. She always hesitated and it was in that moment of hesitation that he always woke up. Woke up sweating and crying like a baby.

The lack of rest and the uncertainty was starting to affect every aspect of his life and he knew that if he didn't do something positive very soon he was in danger of driving himself mad. And so he promised himself however much the coward in him wanted to forget what his mother had told him, wanted to put his head in the sand he had to go into the forest tomorrow and hunt for whatever it was she had left for him to find. Had to find out why she thought she needed forgiveness.

And as he laid his head on his pillow that night for the first time since that fateful morning he felt better. Felt almost at peace with himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Man out of time

Chapter Four

He set out the next morning as soon as the dawn was breaking. He'd had another terrible night and he felt as bad as he could ever remember feeling; in his desperation to get a nights sleep he'd even made himself a milky drink before he turned in just like his mother used to do but it had tasted wrong somehow and even though he'd forced himself to drink it all it hadn't helped and his night had been filled with images that both tantalised and appalled him.

And running through them all somehow central to them all had been the image of the woman. He didn't know who she was, didn't even know if she was real but she seemed real to him and this morning for the first time in a very long time he'd woken from a fitful sleep peppered with what could only be called steamy images of her with a physical reaction that was totally unexpected. At first he'd been ashamed and worried what his mother would think if she knew that he'd woken in that way but of course she wasn't here any more, she was gone and he was alone. Alone with nothing but his own mind which seemed intent on driving him mad.

And alone with the house which had always been such a safe haven was now turning into a prison . A prison that seemed intent on harming him. It seemed to him in his agitated state that the very walls were made of lies and untruths. That buried beneath the floorboards were terrible things, things that would surely tip him over into the insanity that he was sure was waiting for him.

As he pushed into the forest he knew just where he was going; he used the car for the first couple of miles bumping up and down on the old logging tracks that led off from the main road. As he drove he found himself thinking that he would be better in a Range Rover than the BMW he was driving but even as he was having that thought he wondered why. He had to the best of his knowledge never ever been in a Range Rover let alone driven one. But as he pulled the car into a clearing he had a vivid image of himself in a Range Rover; driving in heavy traffic in a city and with the woman sat by his side. She was laughing as she fiddled with the car radio and he was teasing her about her choice of music. It was a scene of such domesticity that it took his breath away and he found that for the longest time all he could do was grip the car steering wheel and sob.

Ruth looked across the open expanse of Hampstead Heath and smiled. Malcolm and James were flying a kite, well Malcolm was flying the kite James was just standing as though mesmerised as the flimsy piece of material soared ever higher into the sky. She could see that Malcolm was talking to the boy even though she couldn't hear what they were saying. She saw Malcolm laugh and give the kite string to James who set off running as fast as his little legs would carry him back towards her. As he got closer to her he could hear him calling to her "Look Mummy look! Daddy let me fly the kite. He let me fly the kite because I'm such a big boy now. I'm a big boy because I'm going to big school tomorrow. One more sleep and I'm going to big school!" And with those words he flew past her the kite bobbing along behind him.

"Not too far young man" Malcolm's voice carried across the open ground and James turned and ran back towards them panting and holding his side and as he slowed to a walk the kite floated down to earth and bobbed along the ground behind him as though it had run out of steam just like the little boy had.

"Enough for today I think" said Ruth as Malcolm took the kite string and began to wind it in pulling the brightly coloured plaything towards them.

"Oh but Mummy" the little boy began as his lips formed a perfect pout; a pout that took for a moment took Ruth's breath away. Sometimes when he looked like this she couldn't understand why other people couldn't see the resemblance. How could they be so blind? Or was it because she spent most of her time looking for signs of his father in him that she noticed so many? And were they real or did she imagine them?

"Do what Mummy says" Malcolm said as he took the boys hand in his. "Big day tomorrow my lad. You need to get a bath and don't forget we are in the middle of our story so you need to be tucked up in bed nice and early" The boy nodded his head in agreement and grabbed hold of Ruth's hand so he was walking in the middle of his parents as they made there way back down the hill to the car park and their sturdy Range Rover.

As they were nearing the car the boy looked up at his mother and said "Daddy is telling me all about Harry. I like Harry, I want Harry to be my friend. Do you think Harry would like to be my friend Mummy?"

Ruth thought for one moment that her heart was going to stop beating "Harry?" she managed to say before Malcolm scooped up the little boy and placed him in his car seat. As if in a dream Ruth slid into the passenger seat, watching in the rear view mirror as Malcolm made sure that James was strapped in securely. She must have still been in a daze because the next thing she registered was Malcolm speaking to her.

"We're reading a Harry Potter book Ruth" he said softly as he pulled his seat belt across his body indicating with his head that she should do the same. "It's Harry Potter he wants to be his friend Ruth. We'll talk about it when he's in bed shall we?"

He seemed to have been sitting in the car for ever before he somehow found the strength to open the door and step out into the fresh air. As he looked around at his surroundings it struck him how alien the whole landscape felt to him. When he'd come into the forest with his mother it had somehow felt right. She'd loved the whole place, she'd loved the isolation and the secrecy of it all and it struck him that was how they had lived their lives. They had been made of secrets he thought and in that moment he had another of the many confusing and upsetting images that were becoming such a part of his every day life. Of course it featured the woman; they were in a darkened corridor, standing facing one another, she was backed up against the wall and he was leaning into her. So close that he imagined that he could feel her breath on his cheek. So close that all he would have to do was lean forward a tiny bit and then he could claim her lips and her soul. But in his head he didn't do that just as he knew that he hadn't done it in reality. Something stopped him. Was it he wondered because he thought he had seen fear in her eyes or even worse even more frightening love?

Whatever it was he knew that something life changing had followed that encounter in that corridor but however hard he tried to search his mind for what that something was it was always just a whisper away, always just round a corner. As the tears once more rolled down his cheeks and he knew that he had to move;had to go and find what had been left for him.

After he'd checked that the car could not be seen from the road (something his mother had always insisted upon) he set off in the direction of the place where he hoped he would find a clue to his past so that he could hope for a future.


	5. Chapter 5

Man out of time

Chapter Five

Sound travels a long way in the silence of the forest.

He's making his way back to the hidden car feeling as despondent as he can ever ever remember feeling. What a bloody fool he'd been to invest so much hope in the ramblings of a dying woman. He'd found the spot easily enough and when he'd unearthed the small metal box he could have sworn his heart had stopped beating. For a the longest time he'd sat back on his haunches his fingers moving aimlessly over the surface of the box not quite daring to open it; afraid and elated in equal measure as to what he might find in it.

Finally, as his knee began to scream in protest he knew he had to move and if he was moving then surely he should open the box. He moved back towards the fallen log placing the box beside him as he sat down. And then taking a deep breath he pulled off the lid. What he found inside shocked and confused him. For there nestling within a nest of tissue paper was a Russian doll, the kind that he'd seen so many times before in the shops in the nearby town. His mother had always admired them and had often talked about buying herself one but never had; well maybe she had and this was it. But surely this wasn't what she'd left for him to find?

Placing the doll on the log he'd carefully taken out the tissue paper and examined it in minute detail, turning it over and over in his hands, holding it up to the light to see if any thing had been written on it, he'd even taken out his box of matches and applied a little gentle heat to the paper to see if he could see any change. But there was nothing. He'd then turned his attention to the box checking to see if it was hiding any more secrets but it seemed to be just a box. There were no hidden compartments, the lid was just that;a lid and as he sat there in the gathering gloom the silence of the forest seemed to be mocking him. Seemed to be telling him what an idiot he was to have have believed that there was more to him than he'd craved there to be. Seemed to be telling him that he was just what he seemed to be; a sad, lonely middle aged man who lived with his domineering mother and that the rest of his life held no adventures, no promise of a future away from the dark oppressive house in the woods and worst of all the woman in his dreams was just that; a woman in his dreams. She was not real, she was not waiting for him, she had never been in his arms, she had never loved him.

She was a figment of his overwrought imagination.

As if in a dream or was that a nightmare he'd carefully gathered all the pieces of discarded paper and shoved them back into the tin. As he leant into pick up the doll he thought that it was mocking him as it sat there a brightly painted slightly garish object contrasting so visibly with the greens and browns of it's peaceful surroundings. For one moment he had the strongest urge to pick the bloody thing up and throw it as far as he could; anything to get it out of his sight but he knew if he did that he'd just have to search around for the scattered pieces and just at that moment that was a task he couldn't face. So instead he picked it up and placed it back in the tin before he walked slowly back to his waiting vehicle.

Sound travels a long way in the forest.

He heard them before he saw them. He'd almost reached the car when he heard the unmistakeable sound of car engines. He was at once on high alert. Nobody ever came down the track that led to their house. Nobody ever visited unless they had been invited and those invitations were as rare as hen's teeth. His mother had prized their isolation and privacy above all other things and because of her attitude so had he; so did he.

He slipped into the undergrowth so he could watch the cars pass. There were three of them and they all seemed to be carrying at least three people. All at once he knew that this was something he needed to be worried about. This was not neighbours coming to check up on him. This was some sort of threat and he needed to deal with it. He decided to leave his car where it was and make the journey back to the house on foot. If he moved quickly he could be back there at almost the same time they arrived. They beat him by a few minutes, darkness was descending and in his haste to make good time he'd got his foot wrapped around a tree root and fallen flat on his face; the box flying out of his hand and the doll rolling away into the undergrowth making a rattling sound as it did.

He'd quickly and without much care pushed the doll into his jacket pocket before he'd hunted in the gathering gloom for the tin and bits of paper. Finally satisfied he'd picked up every little scrap of paper he'd set off again in almost total darkness. He approached the house from the forest taking care not to go any where near the road. He wanted to find out who his unexpected visitors were before he decided if he would show himself or not. As he crouched in the dense undergrowth he spotted and counted at least seven men and a woman who seemed to be in charge. At least he thought she was; she was most definitely acting that way as she shouted and gesticulated at a man who towered over her. He watched for a while making sure he had not been spotted before he moved in closer so he could hear what was being said.

He managed to get himself into the wood pile; there was a gap he'd left so that any wild life could take shelter if the weather was really bad. He knew he wouldn't be spotted because his mother who noticed everything had never mentioned this bit of foolishness and told him off for it. The tall man spoke to the woman again

"He's not here, the car is missing so he must be out. It's getting late and I'm not prepared to have my men hanging about here all night. He has no idea we're looking for him so we can come back in the morning, maybe bring the dogs and pick him up then."

The woman said something but she spoke so softly that he couldn't quite catch what she said but in answer the man walked away from her whilst calling the other men to get into the waiting cars. As he stood holding the door of the lead car open obviously waiting for the woman to join him Dieter was taken unawares as the woman looked directly at the place he was hiding. _She knows where I am_ he thought and that thought scared him. He froze as he waited for the inevitable but with one last look around the woman shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the car. As she walked past the wood pile Dieter heard her utter a few words. They weren't in German but he translated them in a moment **YA naydu tebya,ty ublyudok ( I'll find you, you bastard)** As they drove away he knew that the words had been Russian but how he wondered had he been able to recognise and translate those words so easily?

He crouched in the wood pile for a long time; he wanted to make sure that they'd left no one behind to wait for him to come home, when he was satisfied that he was all alone he slipped silently into the cow byre and then through the door that led into the house. Taking a moment to compose himself he looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, everything looked normal but of course nothing would ever be normal again. As he saw it he could wait for them to return or he could get out while the going was good. He tried to imagine why they had come looking for him and non of the answers were comforting. And he thought about the woman. Was she Russian, she certainly spoke Russian. Why had she called him a bastard? How had he been able to translate her words? Did he know her? He closed his eyes and summoned as picture of her in his head; she was very attractive in a hard sort of way, petite but she had a commanding presence as though she was used to giving orders. He had the impression that she was a woman to be reckoned with but did he know her? He wasn't sure but he knew that he feared her.

He took off his jacket and threw it across the room and as he did the Russian doll fell from his pocket and bounced across the floor breaking as it rolled. Swearing to himself he bent to pick it up and as he searched he found first a piece of paper and then a key. They must have been concealed within the doll.

Deciding that it would be foolish to light the lamps he searched through a cupboard until he found a torch and taking the piece of paper, the key and the torch he moved into the toilet that had no windows. Once inside he read the note

 _Dieter_ it said _You must have worked out the puzzle I left you. Good boy. I know when you find out what I have done you will be angry with me but you must understand that I was alone. I was old and alone when I found you in the forest. At first I thought you would recover and go on your way but as you recovered it was obvious that you had no memory of who you were or where you came from. So I planted the idea in your mind that you were my son Dieter who had died six months earlier. Everything that I found with you is in the concealed cupboard in my room. Remember I once showed it to you? And now you have the key. My only hope is that you find out who you really are and that you can forgive a lonely old woman for her deception._

In a dream like state he moved silently to her room clutching the paper in one hand and the key in the other. He moved the ornate dresser that stood like a sentry on the far wall of the room and there it was a small wooden door and he had the key in his hand. That hand shook as he turned the key in the lock and reached inside to retrieve the contents. Not even looking at the oil skin pouch that was placed within he put it on the bed before he re-locked the door and put everything back where it belonged. Then he picked up the pouch and moved through the darkened house back to the windowless room so he could examine the pouch and it's contents.


	6. Chapter 6

Man out of time

Chapter Six

Ruth closed the door behind her relaxing for the first time in what seemed like a year. In truth it was only forty eight hours give or take since the red flash had dragged her reluctantly into the chaos that was Thames House when yet another potential national disaster seemed imminent. Every moment of the journey in had been consumed with doubts that she would be able to cope, with a real fear that she would be tested yet again and this time she would be found wanting. And by the time she stepped into the lift that would take her to her destiny every fibre of her body what vibrating with the need to turn tail and run back to the safety of her home and her little boy.

But in the time she'd been section head she'd learnt to mask her feelings, mask any doubts she might have and so when she strode out of the pods she was in full business mode; issuing orders, calming people down, suggesting that one of the juniors might like to make everyone a drink and pop up to the canteen to see if they could purloin some food in case the section went into shut down. And only when she had calmed everyone else's nerves did she walk into her blood red office and call her chief in so she could be given a briefing on the state of play.

As it turned out they did go into lock down as some unknown outside interest tried repeatedly to access the files of both Mi5 and Mi6. Ruth had been impressed with their approach and their persistence but as she'd said to Adam

" _I think they must be amateurs. Anybody who knew what they were doing would have given up after the second attempt. The more they try the more they are leaving themselves open to detection. Keep us on high alert by all means but get a team on tracking the footprint they must have left. But my best guess is that it's some brilliant nerd in a bedroom somewhere who got bored playing mindless games online so decided to see what they could do in the real world"._

At last the systems had been made safe and although they had not yet been able to trace the attacks back to source those attacks had ceased and the threat downgraded the work of detection was still going on in the background. The person or persons responsible had to be traced and questioned so that they could have a better understanding of what had happened and plans could be put in place to thwart any further attempts.

Finally Ruth felt that she was able to stand down her core team and tell them to go home and get some rest before they reported back for duty the next day. Soon there was only Adam Carter left out on the grid. She watched as he walked across the Grid a look of determination on his handsome face, he really is one of the most good looking men I have ever seen she thought.

 _But not your type at all Ruth_ said a small voice in her head. _Your type is world weary going thin on top with the most wonderful hazel eyes and a voice that would charm the birds down from the trees. That's your type and you'll never ever be able to replace him._

She was still thinking about that voice and those eyes when Adam knocked briefly before he entered the office. "Go home Ruth" he told her kindly "Go home and see your little boy. It'll all still be here in the morning and after all we can always contact you if we need you can't we?" And he picked up her phone from her desk and waggled it at her to demonstrate his point.

She'd argued that she should stay on for at least a couple more hours just in case but in the end she'd allowed herself to be persuaded and as it was Adam had almost bundled her bodily into the pods just to make sure she left; promising her that he'd not spend any more than another hour tidying up loose ends before he went home for some rest.

And so here she was standing in her hall; her back pressed up against the closed and bolted front door just breathing. Just breathing in air that was still and fresh. Air that was no recycled God knows how many times. Air that was not charged with tension and apprehension and as her vision took in the pair of tiny Peppa Pig wellies and the Harry Potter backpack waiting patiently on the hall table for their young owner to claim them she felt herself overwhelmed with a flood of relief and love that just for a moment threatened to overwhelm her.

"I thought I heard you come in" the familiar voice was welcome and she smiled at him. "You look done in. Go and get a shower or a quick bath and I'll bring you something to eat. Don't bother to come back downstairs I'll bring it up. Omelette and a cup of tea I think."

She found herself smiling even more. Oh how she loved this man. This man who had been there for her. Been there for them. She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it. "He's fast asleep. I know you'll want to, need to look in but please don't wake him Ruth or he'll be like a bear with a sore head in the morning. And as I keep telling him he needs his sleep so he can grow into a big strong boy. Now go!" and he pointed towards the stairs and smiled at her.

She did look in on James after she came out of the shower and as much as she wanted to scoop him up in her arms and cover his face with kisses she contented herself with a quick peck on his forehead promising herself that she would have her share of him in the morning. She was still thinking about her little boy when Malcolm knocked softly on her door asking quietly " Are you decent? Can I come in"

"Decent as I'll ever be" she called to him but she made sure she was sat up in bed with the covers pulled up tight around her before Malcolm came into the room. He'd set himself boundaries and she respected and loved him enough to respect those boundaries.

After he placed the tea on the bedside table and arranged the tray with the tempting omelette and slices of thin hand cut bread and butter on her lap he'd asked if he could talk to her for a moment. She'd nodded as she tucked into the eggs; she was really hungry and the tea was like nectar, well she supposed anything would taste good after the dishwater masquerading as tea she been drinking for the last couple of days.

Malcolm waited patiently until she pushed the tray away and drained the last of the tea from the cup before he spoke to her and when he did finally speak his words were like a bolt from the blue "Marry me Ruth" he said. Just like that. No preamble, no explanation just those words _**Marry me Ruth!**_

For a moment they stared at each other across the bedroom; her not quite believing what she had heard and she suspected Malcolm not quite believing he had said the words out loud. "Well" she began "I haven't had many proposals of marriage Malcolm but yours certainly stands out from the others. What on earth brought this on. I thought we were happy as we are. I thought we had an understanding Malcolm. You know how much I love you but..."

"No. No you don't understand Ruth I'm not trying to force you into anything I have no ulterior motives it's just do you realise that I have no rights at all in regard to James if any thing may God forbid happens to you? He had a tumble at school today." He held up his hand as a look of panic crossed her face "No he's fine just bumped his knee and broke the skin on his thigh. He was playing with the older boys and they were a bit energetic for him that's all. They took him to the local A&E because they thought he might need a tetanus injection but they decided after they'd cleaned it up that it didn't warrant it. But when I arrived at the hospital I realised something that's been at the back of my mind ever since he was born Ruth. I have absolutely no legal rights to him at all. If he's needed any medical intervention I wouldn't have been in a position to agree or disagree; as it was they only let me in to see him because he heard my voice and started to scream for me."

"But you promise me he's okay Malcolm" she said pulling the covers more tightly around herself like a cocoon that would protect her against the realities of life.

"He's fine Ruth. I wouldn't lie to you, you know that but it means that at the moment your mother is his next of kin and if anything happens to you she will sweep him away and I'll have no say in the matter. Marry me Ruth and then I can officially adopt him and he'll be safe; he'll be ours."

She looked at him for a long time her eyes bright with tears. What he said made sense of course it did but it was such a big step "His father" she said "His father."

"His father is gone Ruth" he replied. His tone was not unkind but it was firm. "He's gone Ruth, don't think for one moment I've not looked for him because I have but it's been so long now Ruth we must accept that he's not coming back."

"Do you think he's dead" she whispered not wanting to hear the answer but needing to all the same.

"I don't know Ruth. But if he'd been able I'm sure he would have been in touch by now don't you?"

"He never knew about James." She words hung in the air between them. Ruth had never ever told anyone not even Malcolm who her little boys father was but they both knew there was no need to. Malcolm knew. She felt sure that Malcolm had known about the two of them before they did!

"Just think about what I've said Ruth" he replied as he stood and gathered all the pots together on the tray. "Just give it some serious thought that's all I ask".

She said nothing; just watched as he closed the door softly behind him leaving her in turmoil. She knew that he was right in what she said; he didn't have any legal right to James even though he was to all intents and purposes his daddy. At the time of his birth she'd thought long and hard about registering Malcolm as his father but that would have been a betrayal of the man she loved, had loved and would always love and when it came down to it she just couldn't do it and of course back then she was still clinging on to the hope that he would come back to them.

But maybe now was the time to face reality. If Malcolm had been looking and he'd been unable to find any trace of him what hope was there?

Still battling with herself she crept silently out of her bed and crossed the landing to James's room. He was sleeping soundly his blond curls spread across his pillow, his beautiful hands clutching his favourite teddy bear. As she looked at her son, their son she knew that she had no choice in the matter, whatever her feelings might be she had to do the best for him. James and his future were all that mattered.

Sighing she slipped into the bed beside him and pulled him close inhaling the smell of him. The little boy squirmed a little but didn't wake he just snuggled closer into his mother before he lapsed back into a deep sleep.

A sleep that was not even disturbed by the sound of his mothers weeping as she came to terms with her decision.


	7. Chapter 7

Man out of time

Chapter Seven

As he sat in the half light of the windowless room he passed the oil skin bag from one hand to another rather in the way one would pass a jacket potato that was to hot to eat. He would have liked to take his time over the bag and it's contents but he knew that he didn't have time for self indulgence of that nature. He needed to get away from the house well before daylight, way before his "visitors" returned. Instinctively he knew he was in danger he just didn't know why and maybe he told himself there would be clues in the bag.

He placed it carefully on the ground between his feet and then bent to undue the drawstring cords that held it's contents safe. He had difficulty with the knot; his hands were shaking so much and part of him wanted to go and fetch a knife or a pair of kitchen scissors but he didn't and eventually the knot gave and he was able to pull open the top of the bag.

Peering inside he first saw a leather pouch which he carefully lifted onto his lap. Undoing it he found inside four E.U. Passports one in his name Dieter Grosse another for a German citizen named

Frank Weber salesman a resident of Hanover. The third was for a Dutchman; Max Maijer football scout a resident of Eindhoven. The last was for a British subject; George Baker civil servant a resident of London. All the passports seemed to be genuine; well to his untrained eye they did but of course they couldn't be genuine; they all had his dark brooding likeness on their back pages. Examining them more closely he noticed that they all appeared to be well used, they didn't have that fresh out of the box smell and feel to them. No he thought these are real, these have been used in the past; so what are they doing here and why do they all have my likeness in them?

He placed the passports to one side and took out a large manilla envelope which he opened slowly and carefully wondering just what he might find inside. It was full of Euros, used Euros (so they couldn't be traced he wondered) Most of them were higher denomination notes but he counted out just over a thousand for smaller amounts. Get away money was his first thought. At the bottom of the bag was another envelope that jingled as he took it out of it's hiding place. There were two sets of keys and a letter and then nestling at the very bottom of the bag was something folded securely in a dark cloth. As he lifted it he knew what it was before he unwrapped it.. And in a moment he was running his fingers over a Glock 17 pistol. He could tell by the weight that it was loaded and there was a spare magazine wrapped in a separate cloth. As he stared at the weapon he wondered again how he knew there'd been a pistol wrapped in the cloth and how he knew that he'd handled one; maybe even this one before. And it that moment he was afraid; afraid not of the strangers who had come looking for him but of himself and an unknown past that seemed to be getting darker by the moment.

It seemed to him that the contents of the bloody bag were raising more questions, were making the whole thing even more complicated, he didn't know what he's expected, hoped for but he knew for sure that he hadn't been given what he needed. Maybe if he read the letter he would have more of an idea what was going on?

 _Good boy_ the letter began _If you have come this far I think that I am no longer there to protect you and you need to make good your escape because bad people have come looking for you. Follow your instincts. I am sorry that I cannot tell you who you truly are if I could I would do that for you as you have been a good "son" to me but all things must come to a natural end. I can tell you that I found you one day in the forest; that you had been badly beaten and had been shot in the head. I fear you might have been left for dead. For a long time it was touch and go if you would recover. I nursed you and your physical health improved day by day until you had made an almost full recovery. But all memory of who you were and why you were in the forest had been wiped away. Maybe by the bullet, maybe be by the beating. I don't know but I was lonely and alone and decided to use your memory loss to my advantage and so you became Dieter Grosse. I would like to say that I am sorry for what I did but that would not be entirely true. I was old and alone and needed someone and I cannot find it within myself to be ashamed._

 _What I can tell you is that I believe you are British and that you come from London. You talked a lot about London when you first came to me; when you were unconscious and didn't know where you were. You spoke in English at that time but you were also fluent in German and spoke it like a native, you also spoke Russian from time to time usually when you were in the middle of a bad dream. Those dreams upset you so much, made you so edgy that I gave you something to calm you and make you more content. I thought it was best for both of us._

 _One set of keys is to the shed that is set back in the woods; in there you will find a motorbike; use it to make your escape. Use your brain when you decide which way you are going to go. Sometimes the obvious route is not the best route. There is one more thing I must ask of you. In the draws under my bed there are incendiary devices (they are all ready primed and the timers are set) all you have to do is flick the switches when you leave. Please do this for me Dieter. As well as wiping away all traces of me it will also make it more difficult for your enemies to find you if all trace of us both is destroyed._

 _Just one more thing that might help you find out who you are; you did keep mentioning a name; a woman's name Ruth. You cried out for her so many times in the night it almost made me change my course of action on more than one occasion. You must have loved this woman very much._

 _Be strong, be swift and I hope you find some peace._

At that moment he wanted the woman who had stolen his life to be standing before him so he could kill her. She had lied to him, used him she had stolen his life and he hated her for it. The strength of his anger and his murderous thoughts brought him up short. Just who was he that he could be capable of such hatred and anger? What kind of man had he been? Why had he been wandering in a forest with life threatening injuries? And why were those people looking for him?

There was no time to think Moving swiftly he went into his room and pulled an old rucksack from the back of his wardrobe; in it he placed a change of clothes, three of the passports; the one in the name of Frank Weber he placed in the inside pocket of his jacket. He tossed the pistol from one hand to another, ideally he would have liked a shoulder holster for it but not having one he put it in his jacket pocket along with the spare magazine. It felt heavy and clumsy but he had no choice. He knew that he would need to get at it quickly if he needed to. On top of the passports he placed the manilla envelope after first taking out the smaller denomination notes which he placed in his wallet. He then made himself a sandwich and that along with some fruit a slab of cake and a bottle of water. These he placed at the top of the bag before securing it carefully.

The last thing he did was enter his "mothers" room where he opened the draws. In one of them he found another envelope upon opening it he found a pass key for a Swiss bank and a piece of paper with numbers on it that looked to him very much like the numbers of bank account. Who had this woman been he wondered that she had been able to set all this up. But he's have time to think about things like that later for now he knew what he had to do; so he did as he had been asked, he set the incendiary devices to explode in exactly one hours time. Time for him to be far away but hopefully long before his pursuers returned. Killing strangers would only involve the authorities and that was the last thing he needed.

Then without a backward glance he made his way to the shed in the woods. As he threw back the doors he saw a motorbike standing in the gloom. Taking out his torch he quickly looked over it. It looked as though it had been well maintained. Maybe the bloody Grosse woman had been a motor mechanic as well as a liar and a cheat! He certainly hoped so because he was about to place his life in her hands. He kicked away the stand and wheeled the bike into the open carefully closing and locking the door behind himself. Then sitting astride the machine he turned the key in the ignition and said a little prayer; it started first time and he was pleased to see that the tank was full. Revving the engine he pointed the machine in the opposite direction to the way his unwelcome visitors had gone and set off into the night.

The going wasn't easy as he wove in near total darkness through the dark forest. He had the headlight on dim so that it cast only a small ray of light in front of him. He guessed he was riding almost parallel to the loggers track that cut through the mass of trees and fallen logs that made up this part of the forest but he didn't want to chance using the track and risk bumping into anyone before he was well away from the house. Finally he decided it would be safe to take the easier route and he swung the motor bike onto the well used logging track. Fifteen minutes later he emerged from the forest and was faced with a decision. Should he take the fork in the track that would lead him onto the road to Eberwalde or should he take the longer route to Frankfurt?

All the way he had been arguing with himself. He wanted to turn towards Switzerland and make his way to the bank and take out what ever was waiting for him there but to do that would be foolish in the extreme. He didn't know if anyone else knew about the account; didn't know if anyone would be waiting for him. Christ he didn't even know who he was. No he needed some time to examine all the things the old woman had left him. He needed to look for some clues and he needed to find some confidence from somewhere because at the moment he was scared stiff and running on adrenalin.

He knew that Frankfurt was the more sensible choice; it was a large city and it would be very easy to get lost there. To become invisible but he was exhausted both mentally and physically. He needed to eat, to shower and to sleep before he decided what his next move would be. He was almost sure that he'd not been followed and he was also sure he could keep himself safe. So he argued with himself Eberwalde would be the more sensible choice. And then the other voice in his head told him that it wasn't sensible it was just easier and that taking the easy way out was almost certain to prove fatal.

Exasperated he gave up on the thankless task of second guessing himself and pulled out into the traffic and the road that would take him to the anonymity of Frankfurt.


	8. Chapter 8

Man out of time

Chapter Eight

 **I can't believe it's been a month since I last posted! Where does the time go? Hope you enjoy this update and if you have the time a review good or bad would be most welcolme.**

It was a matter of hours when he rode into the outskirts of Frankfurt though to him it seemed that he had been riding for days. He'd stopped once on the way to buy petrol and stretch his legs; but even so his back was starting to ache badly and his knee was screaming in protest at being in the same position for so long. At the start of his journey down the autobahn he'd not really thought about anything but staying alive; riding the bike through the forest and on the quiet back roads had been one thing but out on the autobahn he was having to contend with cars flashing past him and worst of all the huge lorries that pulled him into their slip stream. It would have been fair to say that he was terrified! He'd only gone a few kilometres when he decided that he was not a good enough rider to cope with the speed and density of the traffic on the road and he needed to find an alternative route or he would most likely end up plastered around one of the huge lorries that kept speeding past him.

He'd taken taken the first exit off the autobahn he saw and found himself in a small town where he bought a map which he studied until found a quieter if longer route to Frankfurt. There was still traffic on this minor road but it wasn't as hectic and he'd had time to reflect upon what had happened to him in the past few days but as he rode along he found that trying to remember anything was just making his head ache and so he decided to give himself over to the mindless pursuit of keeping the bike upright and not falling asleep and thus killing himself and some other poor sod in a mindless accident. Dying that way after all he'd had to cope with lately would he thought be the ultimate irony!

Finding himself in Frankfurt he rode around the outskirts until he found a neighbourhood that was less than salubrious; looking around at the gangs of youths that were hanging about on the street corners he parked up the bike and then with one last glance at it he walked away. Well he walked away as far as the first corner that is and then he turned, pressed himself against the wall of the building and watched. In a few minutes he was rewarded for his patience as a couple of the bolder youths strolled up to the bike and noticed what he had deliberately done. He'd left the keys in the ignition and in a moment the boys were astride the bike and roaring off in the opposite direction. He smiled to himself, with luck they would ride around until the fuel ran out and then they'd torch the bike and so wipe any trace of him from the scene.

Mission accomplished he turned and walked purposely away in the direction of the centre of Frankfurt. As he walked the neighbourhood improved and he began to relax a little, not too much because he still didn't feel safe and he reflected he doubted he would ever feel safe again. After a while he came to a tram stop and after waiting for just a few minutes he was sitting down for the first time in what seemed like weeks. He rode the tram to the terminus in the centre of the city and when he stepped out of the terminus building he was in a different world. There was traffic clogging up the roads, planes flying overhead and people; so many people that for a moment he was overwhelmed but as he stood with his back against a wall breathing deeply, calming himself he somehow knew that this was where he belonged. Maybe not here in Frankfurt but certainly in a big city. He was not he concluded a country boy. No he was most definitely a city boy!

He was sure that he hadn't been followed but it seemed that since he'd entered the city he'd gone into a completely different place. He was more cautious than he'd been when he'd been a country dweller; indeed the man who had lived deep in the forest with his mother was now a stranger to him, someone he didn't know, someone he doubted he'd ever known. Now as he looked around at the crowds of people who surrounded him everyone of them a stranger, everyone of them a potential threat he felt an old familiar thrill course through his blood stream. This was living he thought, this was what he was born for and for a moment he allowed the sensation to pulse in his veins.

Moving forward he made for the nearest hotel; one of many in the area. Like all the others this was a branch of a chain, anonymous and bland just like thousands of others throughout the world. He moved towards the reception desk with confidence and assurance, the seasoned traveller who had done this sort of thing hundreds of times before. In no time at all he'd booked himself in to one of the hundreds of generic rooms they had on offer and taking his pass key he made his way to the lift and out of sight. He took the lift to the next floor and then checking that he'd not been followed he made his way down the long bland corridor to the fire exit. Luckily for him it had been propped open as a delivery of fresh laundry was imminent. Quickly and quietly he slipped out of the door and back out into the bustling street. He repeated this exercise three more times in three more hotels before he made his way across town to another popular tourist area where he booked into another nondescript box but this time he intended to stay. Surely he thought he'd lost anyone that might be following him? But really his mind and body had made the decision for him; he was exhausted and he could go no further before he got some rest.

Closing the door behind himself he slipped the security lock in place before he looked around the room for something he could wedge against the door whilst he took a much needed shower and nap. He was pleased to spot the ubiquitous trouser press idling in the corner of the room and soon with a few adjustments it was placed under the door handle in such a manner that he doubted a mouse could gain access to the room without alerting him of it's presence.

Standing under the hot water of the shower he made his mind go blank. He seemed to have been concentrating for days; concentrating on the hard physical task of not falling off that bloody motor bike, concentrating on just finding the right route on the map, concentrating on not getting wiped out by one of the huge articulated lorries that seemed to dominate the autobahn. And then the sheer mental effort of getting around Frankfurt and finding somewhere safe to stay. And the doubts that still plagued him that he was safe.

Shaking his head he closed his eyes and allowed the hot water to sooth him as he told himself he was safe for the moment. That he had done all he could to make himself safe.

But he couldn't stop that small persistent voice in his head that told him over and over again that he would never be safe again!

Pulling the duvet around himself as though it would protect him from all and every threat he drifted off into an exhausted sleep. When he woke it was dark outside and for a moment he had no idea where he was and as he laid there in the gloom his mind and his heart were racing at a mile a minute. Slowly oh so slowly he managed to calm his breathing as his heart rate slowed to normal and the events of the day came back to him like a jerky old fashioned film. A film that made no sense; had no plot and in which the "hero" was badly cast. Laying there in the warm cocoon of the dark he wished that he could stay there forever and just forget the events that had driven him away from the safety and anonymity of the forest but he knew that was just a pipe dream; something had happened something that had changed his life forever and he had to find out what that was so that he could survive because it was starting to dawn on him that he was indeed fighting for his survival.

Despite everything he must have fallen back to sleep because when he opened his eyes again he could see that sunlight was casting light shards where it poked through the curtains. Sighing he pushed back the duvet and padded towards the bathroom. After washing his hands he cleaned his teeth; his mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage only to have his stomach make loud noises of protest, he was starving but dare he use room service or should he risk going out to find something to eat? Both courses of action held dangers but in the end he decided that going out was the best option; he didn't want to have to sign anything here at the hotel, didn't want to run the risk of being recognised by anyone who came up to his room. Dressing quickly he he picked up the backpack and made his way quickly to the stairs and out of a side entrance and into the bussel of Frankfurt. After he'd eaten he decided that he needed to make a few changes, make himself a little more inconspicuous so taking himself into one of the large department stores he made a number of purchases. A new suitcase, a man of his age with a backpack would be easily spotted, then he moved onto another store where he bought himself new clothes, not an entire new wardrobe that would draw attention to him; no he made sure he used a number of different shops to update his look.

Later back in his room he sank onto the bed he was bloody exhausted, chopping wood all day in the forest hadn't made him this tired and this was only the start. The next thing he had to do was get himself to Switzerland and find out what was in the safety deposit box before whoever was after him caught up with him.


	9. Chapter 9

Man out of Time

Chapter Nine

Once again sorry for the delay in posting. Just so much going on in RL so it's hard to find the time to indulge myself. Anyway hope that those of you who are taking the time to read this story enjoy this chapter.

They heard the explosion and saw the flash of light that accompanied it as they turned onto the track that lead to the farmhouse. Strangely enough there was very little noise; the sound no doubt muffled by the denseness of the trees. The man who was driving the lead car let forth with some choice expletives but the woman sat beside him made no response except to tell him to "Put his foot down". When they reached the farmhouse it was well ablaze the flames quickly devouring the wooden structure and even as they gathered round the vehicles the ceiling joists creaked and stretched before they crashed onto the already destroyed house beneath them.

"No one could have survived that" said the leader " It would have caught anyone in there unawares. I bet it was the gas bottles that exploded. He wouldn't have stood a chance. And then he turned to the woman and said "Well that's that don't you agree. There's not a lot more we can do and to be frank with you I we have much more pressing things to be getting on with".

"Do you really think that this was an accident? You are more stupid than I took you for " The woman spat rather than said the words as she began to walk towards the blazing house looking to all intents and purposes as though she was going to try and gain entry.

Rushing after her the man grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the heat of the flames. "What do you mean?" he asked ignoring the insult she had thrown at him. (During their short acquaintance he grown used to and weary of her slurs and put-downs and had chosen to cope with them by not acknowledging them any more).

"Don't you think it's a tiny bit convenient that this should happen just as we were closing in on him?" She asked, not even trying to hide the disdain in her voice or the sneer on her face. "The man we are dealing with is clever and resourceful. Given even half a chance he'll run rings round us all. I don't believe for one moment this is what it seems!" And as she spoke she wrenched herself from his grasp and walked back to the cars.

He was left with no choice but to follow her. He was really beginning to hate this small attractive woman who appeared to have no empathy with or need of other human beings. "What do you want us to do then?" he asked hating the way he was having to give control of the situation to her especially in front of his men.

"I want to see a body" see replied "I want every inch of that" she waved her arm towards the burning building "searched with a fine tooth comb. I want proof that he died in there."

"There won't be much left" said one of the men as one of the side walls crumpled in on it's self and added to the debris. "And it'll be hours before we can get in there to do anything. And even then I doubt there'll be anything left to find."

The woman swung round to look at him "Well in the mean time you can make yourselves useful by searching the outbuildings can't you? There must be something. Find it and find it soon." And then she added in a mocking tone "After all gentlemen the sooner you give me what I want the sooner you will be rid of me."

The men around her began to mutter amongst themselves. As far as they were concerned that was nothing else to be done until the ruins of the house had stopped smouldering so they could rake through the debris. Even then they doubted they would find anything. Anyone in there would have been burnt to a crisp. Added to that nearly all of them had been out the night before and they were nursing banging heads and queasy stomachs. And at that moment what they wanted to do was get back in the vehicles, get back to the town and either eat breakfast, take a shower or go back to bed. With these thoughts in mind they began to move towards the cars.

They were stopped in their tracks as the woman's voice cut through the air like a whip cracking " I want, demand that the surrounding area is searched thoroughly. You amateurs have not got a clue who you are dealing with. This man has forgotten more about the art of concealment and double dealing than you will ever learn!"

Once more there was grumbling amongst the men some of whom were trained killers, men with so much blood on their hands they would never be able to wash them clean but not one of them dared to step forward and challenge her face to face; there was something dark and forbidding about this diminutive woman with eyes that glinted like black diamonds and slowly they began to disperse around the smouldering ruins. Casting a contemptuous glare around her as the men moved away the woman snarled under her breath words that roughly translated as _worms, scum, idiots_ before she took herself into the relative warmth of the lead car.

Her insistence was rewarded about ten minutes later when one of the men came hurrying back to tell her that they had found a small shed in the woods that they thought deserved closer scrutiny but that they were waiting until it had been checked for bobby traps before they attempted to enter. As she paced in front of the small shed the woman knew then in her heart of hearts that he was not dead; that they would find no body in the wreckage; that somehow or other he had made his escape and eluded her once more. At last one of the men signalled that it was safe to enter and as he pulled open the door she stepped smartly inside. The building was empty but thrown to one side was an all weather cover that must have been protecting something and neatly lined against one wall were fuel cans which when they were checked proved to be empty.

She turned to the senior man and asked "Your thoughts?"

He looked long and hard at the evidence before he replied "A motorbike I think. It can't have been a car; not even a small one would have fitted in here. And what use would a car have been in the forest. No one passed us on the road as we were coming here so if any kind of vehicle was used it must have gone the other way through the forest. No car could do that."

"Then" she said in the quiet reasonable voice that worried him more than the one she used when she was screaming at him "Can I suggest for all our sakes you and your minions find out just exactly which way he went. And can we agree do you think that it's very unlikely that there is a body in there?" And she waved a dismissive hand in the general direction of the dull glow of the rapidly dying flames before she moved back towards the cars that surrounded the clearing.

It was a while later when the man returned to speak to her. At first he thought she was sleeping; bloody hell they were all tired out and if he was honest with himself fed up with the woman. He had been told that he must cooperate with her and make sure she had everything she needed and he'd been if not happy about it at least accepting but the woman was a nightmare. She was demanding, sarcastic and never satisfied. He wasn't sure who she was or why she was so obsessed with this mystery man but obsession was the only way to describe her preoccupation with him. He'd surmised that the man must have crossed her in the past and that the only reason she was looking for him was to extract revenge.

But it wouldn't be today; his men had swept the area around the farmhouse and there was no trace of any movement of any kind unless you counted the tracks of small animals that criss crossed the forest floor. No the man who ever he was knew what he was doing and had covered his trail very well. They could spend the rest of the day wandered amongst the trees and find no sign of him and his movements. And know it was time for him to tell her that unwelcome fact.

As his hand moved to open the car door her eyes flew open and she spoke "You have good news for me I hope because if you don't I don't want to see you or any of the apes you employ." He was sure that she would have said more but just at that moment her phone rang thus saving him from more insults. He watched as she listened her face darkening with every passing second. A couple of times she began to speak but the person on the other end of the line obviously had the measure of her because she soon fell silent until she uttered the words "Da da" And then she terminated the call. "It would seem you have been busy" she spat at him "Calling Moscow was an underhanded thing to do and I will not forget it _my friend_. Call your men back I am to return home today. It is at an end."

He was in two minds whether he should try to explain the difficulties to her; explain the reasons why he had called his contact in Berlin who had then called Moscow but one look at her face told him to leave well alone. And so no words were exchanged as his men came drifting back to the vehicles and they drove silently away from the scene.


	10. Chapter 10

Man out of time

Chapter Ten

 **Sorry about the delay in posting but a lack of time and a total absence of inspiration are a lethal combination. I hope that this makes sense to those of you who take the time to read it and I hope some of you will be kind enough to leave a review to let me know if you think it's worth carrying on.**

Sitting back in his seat, his suitcase carefully stowed in the luggage rack above his head it felt good to be doing something positive; to be acting not reacting as he'd been doing for the past few days. Ever since the death of the woman he'd thought of as his mother in fact. He was no longer bitter about her deception ; oh he was still angry, very angry but he thought that now he knew that he owed her his life and he supposed albeit it grudgingly that he should feel gratitude towards her because of that. Well maybe one day he would be able to feel some sense of gratitude towards her but not now. For now he was focused on the next step of his journey of discovery. A journey he both relished and feared in equal measure.

He'd woken that morning with the sure and certain knowledge that he had to keep moving; had to leave Frankfurt and make his way to Bern; to the bank with it's safety deposit box and it's enticing and terrifying contents. He was as sure as he could be in the circumstances that the box would hold the answers to at least some of his questions and answers were what he craved weren't they?

Or did he crave the anonymity that had been dangled before him in the shape of the false identities and enough cash to last him for a considerable time whilst he forged a new anonymous life for himself. Hadn't he enjoyed the simple life he'd led in the quiet solitude of his forest home? Or did he crave the excitement and thrills that recent events had thrust upon him? He didn't know why but he thought that the man who had lived in the forest was a far better man than the one he'd been before; the one he was rapidly becoming again?

Maybe, hopefully he would find answers in the box; answers that would allow him to make a decision, would allow him to either move on or try to step back into his old life.

He'd thought long and hard about the best way to travel to Bern. He could have hired a car and driven but that would have meant producing documents that could be checked; the offices of the hire firms were bound to have security cameras and then he'd have to pay cash for the hire and nobody paid in cash these days did they. And accidents on the autobahn were all to easy to stage. So no driving then. Next he thought about flying but the process of flying seemed to be long and complicated with no direct flights and even more important than that he doubted that he'd be able to get his gun through the airport security. So no flying then.

Which left the train. There was a direct route which took just under four hours; so he'd purchased a first class ticket from the automatic ticket machine at Frankfurt railway station making sure that he'd been surrounded by an excitable group of school children whilst he did so. He'd even managed to get one of the bolder children to make the purchase for him so there would be no record of him buying any ticket. After he'd disentangled himself from the school group he looked about for a way to board the train unseen and his eyes had lighted upon a young woman struggling with a baby in a pram, a toddler and two large suitcases. She looked near to tears as she tried to catch the eye of passing porters who seemed to be intent on ignoring her. Stepping forward he asked "Having trouble?" And slinging his bag on top of hers he added "Here let me help you" And so he went from being a single male traveller to being part of a family group in the blink of an eye. It had all been so easy and he recognised once more that subterfuge and slight of hand were second nature to the man he was going to look for in Switzerland. A man that he was curious about but who he also feared because by now he was more than certain that his other self was a man who he didn't think he wanted to meet. A man who had made many enemies. A man who had done some terrible things.

After he had helped the woman get settled in her seat he bade her goodbye and moved down the train until he found his reserved seat thankful that he seemed to be the only person in the block of four seats that were grouped together. He was just starting to think that he'd made a big mistake and that going to Switzerland was the wrong thing to do when fate took hold and the train began to pull away from the platform.

He could have caused a fuss and jumped from the train but he decided to let the cards fall where they would and accept that what he had decided was the correct course of action. And so he settled back in his seat and relaxed as much as he was able in the circumstances allowing himself to be swept along on the tide of fate.

Malcolm Wynn-Jones closed the door of his study firmly behind him and after he'd placed his mug of tea carefully on the coaster he kept on the polished surface he sat down gratefully and opening the top draw of his desk he pulled out a packet of digestive biscuits. Taking one from the open packet he dunked it carefully into his tea and then judging just the right moment to pull the biscuit from the hot liquid he placed it hastily in his mouth. As he allowed the mushy substance to slide down his throat he murmured a sigh of pleasure. There was something strangely satisfying about a perfectly dunked digestive biscuit; something that put the world to rights somehow

He'd had a trying morning; James had been unusually truculent, refusing point blank to put his school shoes on, insisting instead that he'd wear his trainers because as he'd said with not a little conviction "They make my feet feel safe". At first he'd smiled at the boys words but as the time went on and the possibility of them being late for school loomed he'd felt himself becoming more and more short with the boy. In the end he'd won the argument and James had trudged out of the house in the despised shoes his bottom lip jutting out in a manner that spoke volumes. There had been none of the usual cheerful exchanges on the drive to school and as he'd said goodbye to James at the school gates the boy had turned to him and the look on his face had almost taken Malcolm's breath away because he'd seen that look so many times before. The thought that others might see what he saw in the boy's face and the worry that thought caused had played on a loop inside his head as he drove home. Surely if he saw it someone else would? And not for the first time he found himself wishing that he could put his hands round the throat of a certain Head of Section.

Everyone within the service and as far as he was aware everyone who knew him or of him was convinced that Harry Peace was dead; that his past had finally caught up with him and he was laying somewhere undiscovered and unmourned; most were convinced that they would never know the true story of what his ultimate fate was and even more didn't give a damn. They were just pleased that someone who knew too much and asked too many questions was no longer on the scene causing problems.

Malcolm Wynn- Jones had never, ever been convinced that the man was dead and gone. Harry Peace had more lives than a bloody tom cat and unlike others he wouldn't be convinced until he was shown proof of the man's demise and by proof he meant a body. And so although he was no longer in the service he's used all his experience and expertise to set up his own untraceable listening serving dedicated to finding and analysing anything that could point to Harry Pearce and his death or not as the case may be.

For in truth he needed to know what had been the ultimate fate of Harry Pearce. Malcolm Wynn-Jones had never been a man of need; he was in many ways self sufficient when it came to his life and the way he lived it.

He was a reticent man; had been a reticent and solitary child .And as the only child of the minister he'd been set apart from his peers by the simple fact that he was "different"; his father was the minister and that meant that he was put on something of a pedestal and by association so was Malcolm and his mother. Even if that had not been the case he doubted very much that he would have fitted in with his peers. His Welsh speaking Grandmother had called him _**"hen enaid"**_ an old soul And as he grew he seemed to prove her point time and time again; indeed he appeared to relish his apartness never envying or understanding local children as they played their silly games and laughed at some inane joke or or other.

When he was sent away to boarding school that distance naturally widened. Boarding school had been a nightmare as far as he was concerned. Being thrown into the cauldron of adolescent boys all fighting to make a point; all fighting to prove who was top dog was an anathema to him and all his memories of that time were upsetting. He shuddered when he thought of his miserable school years; best not to think about them; best to put them back in their box and firmly close the lid once more.

He'd cared for his mother well into middle age, not because he had to but because he wanted to. And because of that he'd never formed any kind of close intimate bond with another human being. He'd flirted with intimacy whilst he was at uni but the girls always seemed to sense he was holding back; that he would always hold back part of himself so the fledgling romances never amounted to anything. The closest he'd ever come to another human being was with dear Colin; his relationship with Colin had been the closest he'd ever felt to another human being. Colin was his friend. A friend who shared his passion for tec, who understood his dry sense of humour, who in short "got him" but fate and the bloody service had intervened and Colin's name had joined all the others etched into that damned wall; a wall that served as both a tribute to those who had died in the service of their country and as a warning to those still serving that one false move, one quirk of fate could mean they would be, could be next.

Harry's name wasn't on the wall: it couldn't be, no one knew what fate had befallen the great man. The master of intrigue and double dealing; of slight of hand and mis-direction but Malcolm had always been determined to find out and now even more so. Now he had too much at stake to let anything stand in the way of what he wanted. And what he wanted was Ruth and James.

When Harry had gone missing "somewhere on the continent" Ruth had been devastated and finding it difficult to function both on and off the grid. Everyone had been worried about her and had tried to reassure her, tried to convince her that life would go on but nobody seemed able to get through to her and so in desperation they had all turned to him because as Adam had said "You know them both better than any of us Malcolm. Please try to get through to her or there's a bloody good chance we'll lose her as well". He could remember assuring Adam that Ruth wouldn't do anything stupid but he was spurred into action by Adam's words and that night he found himself knocking on Ruth's front door armed only with a bottle of wine, indecision and doubt.

At first she'd been loath to let him in but he's dug his heels in determination making him bold and in the end she'd given into him albeit with extremely bad grace. As he walked into her cosy living room he was shocked by how ill she looked. She'd always been slim but now she looked gaunt and there was a haunted look in her eyes and he knew there and then that Adam had been correct and that it was up to him to change things. Just how he was going to do that he hadn't a clue but change things he must.

She'd almost snatched the bottle of wine from his hands before she bolted into the kitchen returning with the bottle opened and a glass for him: she already had a glass on the coffee table and there was an empty bottle of wine pushed underneath it. He watched as she poured them both a generous glass before he summoned the courage to say "Do you think this is wise Ruth. You seem to have been drinking already tonight; can't we just talk without lubrication?"

In reply she'd first of all drained her glass and poured herself another one before she turned all her pain and torment on him and he'd sat there and allowed her to do it. He'd listened as she raged and wept until he could stand it no more and he moved around the table to take her in his arms.

At first she'd gone as stiff as a board and he knew that he'd surprised her with his actions, in truth he'd surprised himself; after all he was not the most tactile of men, emotions and the displaying of emotions were foreign ground to him but it just seemed to be the right most natural thing to do at that moment. So they stood in front of Ruth's sofa both in a position they never thought they be in both of them coming to terms with this new thing when suddenly Ruth relaxed and curled herself into him; and all the while she cried and cried. He'd manoeuvred them towards the sofa and they'd fallen rather than sat down with a bump. And still she'd cried; cried until she exhausted herself; cried until she slept in his arms. He'd waited patiently not daring to move in case he woke her and just when he thought he could bear the cramp in his arm no more she'd woken her face blotchy and her breath ragged.

She'd stuttered an apology for her behaviour but made no move to get out of his embrace. He knew her well; he knew she had something to tell him so he waited... they waited wrapped together as they both thought about the man whose disappearance had brought them to this point in time.

"I'm pregnant." Just two words uttered into the quiet comforting blanket of silence that enfolded them. And then she repeated it in case he hadn't heard the words.

"And?" he asked "Yes" she had spoken more confidently as if she were happy she had shared her secret with someone "Yes, it's Harry's baby. What am I going to do Malcolm? I can hardly take care of myself and a cat never mind another human being."

And in that moment, with that confession the course of Malcolm Wynn-Jones life had been altered forever.


	11. Chapter 11

Man out of time

Chapter Eleven

"I'll make us a pot of tea. Shall I?" The words sounded hollow and trite even to his ears as he floundered ; completely out of his depth. But by some miracle it seemed that Ruth might have been thinking along the same lines and a few moments later they found themselves in Ruth's small neat kitchen. Insisting she take a seat whilst he made them a "brew" he was surprised when she did as she was told. He'd expected an argument from her but after tearing off a wad of kitchen roll which she scrunched into her hand she sat meekly at the table dabbing her eyes and wiping her nose.

He turned away from her and opened the cupboard door she'd pointed to. Inside there seemed to be almost every tea known to man ranging from herbal to lap sang souchong to good old British builders. Taking out a packet he turned to Ruth saying "This calls for "builders" don't you think?"

Soon the tea was in the teapot brewing and the mugs, milk jug and sugar were on the table. They sat in silence both of them staring at the tea pot as though by some miracle it was going to leap into life and tell them what they should be saying and doing. Briefly just briefly Malcolm felt the overwhelming urge to get up and walk out. After all none of this was his problem, his doing; he was only here because he'd allowed Adam to emotionally blackmail him but instead he found himself picking up the pot to pour the tea uttering those immortal words "Shall I be mother?".

As soon as the words had escaped his lips he could feel himself colouring, wishing; no praying that the ground would open and swallow him whole. Across the table and to his horror he could see Ruth's shoulders had begun to shake once more and he feared that his thoughtlessness had provoked another bout of hysterical tears. And in that moment his only cohesive thought was he was going to kill Adam the next time he saw him! But when he raised his downcast eyes to look at Ruth he was astounded to see she wasn't crying but laughing. He was dumb struck and could think of nothing to say; maybe he thought to himself this is what they mean when they say pregnant women's hormones take on a life of there own. His musing were cut short when Ruth who by now had started to hiccup quite loudly said in between attacks "I think I've stolen that particular role for myself don't you Malcolm? Do pour; I'm desperate for a cup".

They sat nursing their mugs the silence stretching between them. Ruth was calmer now and the hiccups seemed to have ended as quickly as they had begun. Malcolm felt as though he had two choices; he could finish his tea and say goodnight leaving Ruth to battle with her own demons. Could leave her to cope with the repercussions of the news she'd shared with him or he could stay and be her friend. Could offer all the help he could.

If of course she wanted his help.

Clearing his throat he said "I didn't even know that you and Harry were a couple. Of course people noticed that you and he were close. That there seemed to be something special between you. If you don't mind me asking how long has it been going on?"

Ruth gazed out of the window; the dark night sky was fading into a misty grey as the day prepared to chase away the darkness. Soon the birds would begin their early morning chorus and there would be another day that had to be faced.

"Ruth, Ruth" he said softly "Do you want me leave. Maybe I've been asking questions that are to personal? I understand if you don't want to share private things we me." And he made to stand away from the table.

Ruth shot out her hand and caught hold of his wrist "No please don't go Malcolm. I do want to talk to you; tell you but it's hard to put it all into words. But I suppose the first thing to say is that Harry and I weren't a couple. Not really."

Malcolm knew that his face was betraying him but he couldn't stop the look of disbelief that must have been evident as he digested that piece if information.

Although she must have recognised the disbelief on his face it seemed that Ruth decided to ignore it as she began to speak again "It's hard to explain Malcolm it's just that Harry and I seemed to hit it off right from the start. At the beginning of course it was more superficial; after all he wasn't sure that he could trust me was he?" And here she gave a small self-deprecating laugh as she nodded towards the teapot.

Malcolm poured them both another mug of tea and then sat back to listen. "Anyway" Ruth continued "After Tom had had a word with me letting me know that my _cover_ had been blown and I'd come clean about the whole thing and after Harry had had his say and it was finally made plain to everybody that I would not be going back to GCHQ things began to become more, more personal. Oh not so personal so that anyone else would notice. Or at least that's what I believed until now. I suppose, no I know he tended to look for me when he came onto the Grid. I noticed that because I looked for him all the time. We started to watch each other; I would look up and see him watching me through the windows of his glass prison or he would look up and see me watching him. But we never said or did anything about it Malcolm never.

And then we nearly lost him. You remember. I was beside myself. When he came back to the Grid I wanted to throw my arms around him and just hold him but of course that wasn't on was it? And after Danny died I stood outside his office waiting, praying that he would come to me; take me in his arms and make all the pain go away. But no. Self control; self restraint won the day again.

And so it went on Malcolm. There was never a good time, never a time when we could indulge in simple normal human feelings. All there was was the job and it's demands, demands that always needed feeding whether with time and effort or sacrifice. It was just so complicated so demanding and I found that _it_ whatever _it_ was was taking over my life."

"You don't have to do this Ruth" he said as he reached out his hand and placed it in hers. "Bloody hell Ruth you're frozen. Why didn't you say something? Here let's go back into the warm and I'll put on the fire." And as he stood he pulled her up from the table.

Once they were settled side by side on the sofa and Malcolm had made doubly sure that the throw from the back of the chair was snug around her he turned to her saying "You don't have to do this It's private and I understand that I had no right to ask."

"No I want to tell you Malcolm. I need to tell someone the whole story well maybe not the whole story that would just be too complicated and I don't think I really understand it myself;and after all soon the world and his wife will be speculating won't they? As I said there was never a good time but we sort of fell into a strange hybrid pseudo relationship." She shivered, her whole body shaking but whether it was because she was cold or it was the memories that where chilling her Malcolm couldn't tell.

" Yes I think that just about sums the whole sad, sorry episode up. Sometimes it felt, was as though we were trying to inflict as much pain as we could on one another. Trying to see which one of us would break first and a lot no most of that was me. Why I don't really know. I don't think that I will ever know why I was so naïve about the whole thing; but in truth I was scared Malcolm; scared that if I let him in he would consume me and then find out I wasn't worth his attentions and he would drop me. We should have, I should have done something to put some space between us but...We took to spending time together on the Grid after everyone else had gone home. Oh nothing happened we just enjoyed (it's that the right word) being together. And I suppose you could say we played some sort of pathetic game each of us willing the other to be the one who crossed the Rubicon. Of course it never happened; I was much to scared, to insecure to do anything like that. And Harry. Well there were times when I thought Harry would make a move but he always seemed to pull back from me at the last moment. It would have been easier, I could have borne it better Malcolm if he'd made it clear he had no interest in me except as a valued colleague but every time I was getting to the stage when I could have pulled away he did something intimate, something personal and I was sucked back in. Sometimes Malcolm I hated him so much, sometimes I wanted to scream and shout at him; to tell him to just leave me alone. To tell him that he had no right to play with my emotions."

"But you didn't" It was said as more of a statement than a question and once more the silence took charge of the space that surrounded them.

 **I know that this seems to be long winded but I think it's important to fill in some background to explain why Malcolm and Ruth are " _together"_. I'm still not sure where this is going. I have two endings in mind and I find I'm drawn to one more than the other at the moment. This has been harder to write than I thought it would be but I'll get there in the end!**


	12. Chapter 12

Man out of Time

Chapter Twelve

" _But you didn't"_

The words seemed to reverberate around the room even though they had been spoken softly with not a hint of censure or blame it seemed all they could do was sit facing one another the space between them on the sofa becoming a chasm which each passing second. Suddenly the tension was broken as both their mobiles burst into life heralding a red flash and both of them as one exhaled the breath they had been holding as they stood glad of the interruption; glad that they would have more time to think about what their next words would be.

"Shall we take your car?" asked Malcolm "I came by taxi. There's no where to park round here is there?".

Ruth looked at him as though he was speaking a foreign language and Malcolm felt compelled to repeat his question; this time a little more urgency in his voice. "I don't think I'm up to driving" she finally said in reply. "And I must look an absolute mess. I can't go in looking like this."

"Give me the car keys while you go upstairs and change and then you can work the magic that all women seem able to do when it's needed. Go on I'll give you ten minutes. I'll be in the car waiting for you. Go on don't stand there looking at me Ruth we need to go."

Twenty minutes later they were driving at speed through the still negotiable streets of London; making better time than Malcolm had thought was possible. Ruth was sitting quietly by his side in a world of her own until she suddenly said "Should we be doing this Malcolm? Should we be going into Thames House together?" But when they stepped out of the pods Ruth's worries seemed to be irrelevant as no one looked up at them, everybody too busy to even care who or what had entered their closed world.

It was almost eighteen hours later when they were told to stand down. What had seemed at first to be a real and substantial threat had instead turned out to be as Adam had put it "Nothing to get hot under the collar about".

There had been an incursion on the border between India and Pakistan; something that happened much more frequently than was common knowledge but this time there was sabre rattling on both sides and because the new Indian ambassador was due to present his credentials to her Majesty before they were formally registered at The Court of St. James there had been chatter that some hot heads in the Pakistani community might take it into their heads to protest and the underlying fear was that others might use this protest to care as much harm and mayhem as they could.

Of course normal high security measures were in place as the new ambassador would be transported through the streets of London in the designated seventeenth- century carriage as was the custom and practice. It was all part of the pomp and circumstance of the occasion and was something that all ambassadors new and old seemed to relish.

It was something that they had dealt with before, many times and in some ways it was just routine but the posturing and threats made by both India and Pakistan along with the snippets of unsubstantiated information that were filtering through had unnerved the temporary section head who had neither the experience nor the confidence to see the artifice on both sides for what it was; nor had he the courage to wait and see if the threats of violence on the streets of London were real; so had he had decided without consultation and advice from anyone to call a red flash and then after he had done it he'd locked himself in his office seemingly expecting the team to just get on with it

And get on with it they did; ferreting out intelligence through painstaking investigation into known suspects; walking the streets, picking up on gossip and snippets of information here and there,by making the often difficult decision whether to call in favours or leave well alone in case those favours needed to be saved for another time. In short working as a well oiled team. Harry Pearce's team. At first everyone reported to Adam but as the hours went on and the information mounted a natural leader emerged. And if the senior members of the team were honest with themselves it was no surprise.

Ruth Evershed was the person closest to Harry; professionally that was. What their personal relationship was was an enigma to everyone. A puzzle that lot's of them had tried to solve but without any success. All they knew on that front was that there was something between them but it was something that could not be named or categorised. But that aside they were very sure that Ruth was the one who knew what Harry's take on the situation would be and they were more than happy to let her direct the operation, confident that they were in safe hands.

They all knew there was always someone who wanted to make a name for themselves; was misguided or naïve enough to believe the evil that was dripped into their ears by the corrupt malevolent cowardly creatures who were willing to use any method to achieve their vile ends. But it seemed that this time no such plan was intended. Of course having the new ambassador in a coach that belonged in a bloody museum was not exactly the safest mode of transport available but it was all part of the package and they knew from experience that the ambassadors loved the whole spectacle and talking them out of the coach and into a heavily plated car had been in past and no doubt would be in the future damn near impossible.

So by the time they had assured themselves and their masters that the event could, should go ahead as planned with extra security of course; just in case because you could never be one hundred percent sure they were all pissed off with the whole bloody thing. Adam had sent home the junior members of the team and made sure that the officers coming on duty were up to speed with what had being going on when the "boss" slipped out of the confines of Harry's office and made for the pods. He'd almost made it when Adam's voice stopped him in his tracks "Sir" he said a slight hint of menace in his voice "Don't you want to chair a de-brief? Harry always used to say we could learn something from every incident whatever the outcome. And I think we could all learn some valuable lessons from this one don't you?"

A silence descended across the space they inhabited broken only by the whirr of the many machines dotted around and the solitary ringing of a phone which was snatched up quickly by a junior members of staff desperate to do something so she wouldn't have to think about what was going on in front of her. The man mumbled something about an urgent meeting and pushed into the nearest pod eyes downcast, shoulders slumped without a backward glance.

As he disappeared out the other side and out of sight Adam banged his fist on his desk before saying "Core team, meeting room in ten minutes." Adam had at least the good grace to look apologetic as his co-workers groaned and huffed making their feelings plain. There was of course no doubt that they'd comply with his instructions but they felt the need to let him know they weren't happy about it. Not happy at all. He was about to silence them with a sharp word when his phone rang and after what would have seemed to anyone who had bothered to listen a very one sided conversation he spoke again "Okay change of plan; I've been summoned upstairs. For an arse kicking no doubt so get off home, get cleaned up, eat something and get some sleep and I'll see you all first thing in the morning.

As Ruth began to pack away her things making a last minute check of the latest intelligence coming from G.C.H.Q. Malcolm came over and stood next to her desk. " You did well Ruth." She shrugged her shoulders as way of an answer before she said quietly "Well someone had to take some of the pressure off Adam. You know that being tied to a desk isn't his idea of fun. And well it just seemed to come quite naturally Malcolm. I think we did a good job. Don't you?".

Malcolm nodded in approval before he bent in close so that his next words wouldn't be heard by anyone else "About the discussion we were having before we had to come in. What do you want to do? Shall we carry on where we left off or do you want to...?"

He was cut short by Ruth laying a small fidgeting hand on his sleeve "No Malcolm I feel as though I've done the hard part. I'd really like you to hear the whole story and I'd be more than grateful to hear your advice. That is if you want to?" and once again Malcolm thought she might cry there and then on the Grid.

"Of course" he spoke quickly not wanting her to imagine that he didn't want to help "I'll just go and set a couple of programmes running and tidy up a few loose ends and then we can get off." As he walked away Adam fell into step beside him "Things going okay Malcolm" he asked in little more than a whisper.

"If you mean have I tried to engage Ruth in a conversation about the way she is feeling at the moment mind your own bloody business Adam. You asked me to talk to the poor girl but I don't remember anything being said about me reporting back to you." And he walked off towards his desk leaving Adam staring after him.

 **This seems to go on for ever and get nowhere but I find myself obsessed with the back story of how Malcolm and Ruth and don't forget James came to be a family unit so please bear with me as I haven't forgotten about a solitary figure making his way to Switzerland.**


End file.
